Routine
by Walter Kovacs
Summary: Just another night on the job.....


My first attempt. Don't be afraid to be brutally honest...

* * *

Finger street was relatively quiet for that time of night. Then again, it usually was, as most people would not be caught dead on Finger street after ten o'clock, due to the fact that if they did run into someone, it would usually result in a whole new understanding of the phrase "caught dead", mainly with an emphasis on the 'dead' part. However, the street was not quite as bad as it was five, even ten years ago. It was this little fact that allowed Eloise Morgan to get out of her car, which suffered from a most unfortunate miniature explosion in relation to its engine, and walk to the payphone on the corner of Finger street. Cursing her stupidity in leaving her cellphone at the office, it looked like she would reach her destination safely when it happened.

They must have watched her get out of the car and waited until this moment. There were four in all, each uglier and burlier than the last. The first drew out a large knife and advanced towards her.

"Hey baby, want to have a good time? I do."

Eloise turned to run, only to find herself blocked by one of the thugs. She tried to scream, but the hand clamped over her mouth prevented it. She closed her eyes, afraid to see what happened next. As a result of this, she did not see when the knife-wielding mugger's hand was pierced by a small, metal object. She did, however, hear the scream that emanated from said mugger after the fact. The hand over her face weakened, and she managed to pull herself free slightly. Eloise tried to break free completely, but the man's grip was still too strong. The struggle occupied her to the extent that neither she nor her captor realized that a dark shadow had just descended on the other three men. It was only until the last of the three let out a loud yelp of pain that Eloise and her captor realized what was happening. The remaining mugger looked at the black shape with mounting horror as it turned to face them. The mugger ran, hoping against hoping that he might somehow escape the black beast. Sadly, fortune frowned on him that day and as Eloise watched, the dark shape spread – were those _wings_? – wide and with a great leap, was on the thug, causing a number of pained cries to come from her once-powerful attacker. Eloise must have blinked because the next thing she knew, the shape was gone and the mugger was on the ground, obviously in pain. She calmly made her way to the payphone and dialed 911.

* * *

Charles Puzo was a very happy man. Tonight, he would make a transaction that would finally make him the top boss in Gotham City. Forget the freaks like Two-Face or the Ventriloquist, Puzo was going to make the organized crime scene remember what it was like when _real_ men ran things. There was not a hood in the city that did not look back fondly on the days when Carmine Falcone ruled Gotham with an iron fist. Now, Puzo was poised to fashion a "Roman Empire" of his own. It all depended on this delivery of heroin. It was a specially designed batch, coming from way outside the city. Twice as addicting as the regular stuff, and it could be manufactured twice as quickly, meaning that Puzo could undercut the competition and make himself a great deal of money. And as everyone with a brain cell knows, with money comes power. Lots of power. Enough power that someone with the right vision could put an entire city in his pocket. Puzo glanced at his watch – 10:30. There was the sound of a large metal door opening and a truck backing in. Puzo worked to contain the spring in his step as he made his way to the delivery spot. He walked up to the driver that had gotten out.

"Any trouble?" The other man shook his head.

"It's all in there?"

"Every last bit boss, just as you ordered." Puzo smiled. Everything was going precisely as planned. Had he bothered to look up, that smile would have faded very quickly. Since he did not, Puzo was unaware of the fact that the man on the other side of the truck had just been tackled by a descending shadow with wings. It was so quick that the grunt never had time to scream. Had he been aware of this, the ambitious gangster would likely had taken out his pistol and gone on alert. Instead, he happily waddled over to the back of the truck and lifted up the metal door. Inside was indeed his precious heroin, just as he wanted it. Puzo was in such an elated mood that he failed to notice the fact that his companion had just been pulled away in a muffled scream. What he did notice, after a few minutes, was that someone was standing behind him. Puzo turned and was greeted by a large, gloved fist.

* * *

It was an act that could only have come from the mind that possessed his particular genius. In a few minutes, the entire city would be the setting for the greatest mass experiment in the nature of fear ever performed. All he had to do was press a simple button, and the turbines would start to move, causing the fear gas to be spread across Gotham at an unimaginable rate. Nothing could stop him now, not even that masked lunatic who was constantly hounding him. Jonathan Crane, known far and wide as the Scarecrow, addressed the underling closest to him.

"What time is it?" The thug glanced at his watch.

"Eleven o'clock, sir." Inside his stitched mask, Crane smiled. Just ten more minutes and the gas would be ready. The Scarecrow turned to speak again.

"As soon as the gas is ready, I want the turbines on. I won't tolerate a second's lapse!" The goon went to relay this to the others. The costumed man knew that there was no rush, but something inside him told the former professor to hurry. He had been close to triumph before, only to have it unfairly snatched from him by a lesser being, incapable of comprehending true genius. The Scarecrow began to walk up the stairs so that he could observe his men from above when he heard it. It was the all too familiar sound of one of his men being thrown against a wall followed by a small yell. Crane forgot the stairs and checked to see that he still had some of his latest batch on him. He did, and so the man intent upon spreading fear simply decided to hold his ground. His men appeared somewhat nervous.

"Keep working!" he shouted. He was not going to be stopped. Not this time. The two remaining men glanced at each other, shrugged, and continued their work, only to be struck down by metal objects that, upon striking their heads, rendered them unconscious. The Scarecrow looked around frantically. Where was he? At that moment, Crane decided that he did not particularly care, and decided to make a run for it. He was in sight of the door to the stairs when he felt something land on top of him, causing him to fall to the ground, face first. Then there was the sensation of being turned, and seeing the familiar black outline, accompanied by the re-introduction of the fist that belonged to the outline.

* * *

The man in the black robes laughed and laughed. At last, the mighty Justice League was helpless before the might of Felix Faust. The sorcerer muttered some words, and a great ball of energy was sent at the advancing Man of Steel, sending him hurtling backwards. A similar spell set the Martian Manhunter ablaze, causing the hero to fall to the ground in pain. The Flash and Green Lantern had already been rendered unconscious at the beginning of the battle thanks to his surprise attack. Aquaman was clutching his throat, gasping for breath as the moisture evaporation spell did its work. Faust then turned his attention to Wonder Woman, who had managed to recover from the energy blast that had felled her shortly after the start of the battle. She was on her feet and took out her golden lasso.

"You may have surprised us Faust, but the Justice League is not going to be defeated by your parlor tricks!" The wizard merely smiled and, whispering a few words, caused the Amazon's rope to gain a life of its own and bind the princess.

"It amazes me how quickly you all forget. I am no mere stage magician, performing petty tricks before gullible fools! I am Felix Faust, and you shall soon learn to give me the respect that I deserve!"

With that, Faust cast a spell that resulted in an energy blast which sent Wonder Woman flying into the nearest wall. Somehow, she managed to get on her feat yet again. The smile had yet to leave Faust's face.

"You impress me, Wonder Woman. The battle is clearly lost, and yet you still refuse to admit defeat. As a reward, you shall witness my ascension to godhood!" Faust opened the book he was carrying.

"For you see, I need only to speak the incantation at midnight for the portal to open, allowing me to absorb the very source of all the magic in this world! In five minutes, the Earth will bow to its true master!" Faust read the first line, then looked up to the heavens to recite it.

"Ab priori incanta-urgh!" The last bit was caused by the fact that a small gas pellet had suddenly become lodged in Faust's throat. He looked around in panic only to see a figure draped in black, with more pellets in his hand. Before the super-villain could completely comprehend what had happened, the pellet burst, releasing a noxious gas. Faust immediately fell to his knees, clutching his throat in pain, unable to speak the spells that could save him. He looked up just in time to see Wonder Woman, now free from her rope, deliver the finishing blow.

* * *

The Commissioner looked at the clock, which read 12:35. He then looked back at the case file on his desk. It was the standard double homicide, at least by Gotham standards, since it included victims that had smiles on their faces. When was Arkham going to learn that that clown required at least twice the amount of security given to regular inmates? When he thought about the lives that could have been saved if someone had only bothered to double-check security……. He did not notice when a caped figure entered the room via the window, but then again, he never did. He did however, notice that the figure was now next to his desk.

"I don't suppose you've got any leads on this by now?" He pushed up his glasses when addressing the man in the costume.

"A few. I have reason to believe he may be trying to poison the reservoir."

"Again? You'd think he would have gotten tired of it by now." Gordon then yawned without thinking. He turned to the man next to him and handed him the file.

"I suppose you'll need this." The caped figure took it and spoke again to his friend.

"The heroin shipment I intercepted had been modified by Ra's Al Ghul. It appears he may be trying to make another move against the city." The Commissioner nodded.

"I'll get some extra men on all incoming drug deals." He yawned again.

"You should get some rest, Jim. You're no good tired." Gordon managed to stifle the next yawn.

"You might be right. I don't suppose you could consider doing the same? But then again, this is all routine for you, isn't it?" When he looked up, the costumed figure was gone, as usual.

"Yep. Nothing but routine."


End file.
